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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752294">Hot Apple Cider</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst?, Canon-Typical Behavior, Gen, Riddle's backstory but filled with head canons and described more thoroughly, Some Fluff, Some canon dialogue is utilized</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:55:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28752294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But then there was a boy. Trey.</p><p>And a cat, whose smile leaves after all else.</p><p>They were a taste of what it was like to be human. An envied pair that possessed so much less and yet so much more than Riddle did.</p><p>No, Trey did not have the first 300 rules that the Queen of Hearts created memorized word-for-word and he could not recite any rule from the top of his head. <br/>But he knew how to bake strawberry tarts. And he knew how to eat an entire egg custard in just one bite. </p><p>No, Che’nya did not know how to solve a diophantine equation, nor have he developed his unique magic.<br/>But he knew how to laugh, and also how to sneak a bit of whipped cream quickly enough so that Trey does not notice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Che'nya | Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka &amp; Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover &amp; Riddle Rosehearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Objects do not talk. They do not protest, and they do not disobey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Objects do not move unless they are moved by someone. They do not voice their opinions, and they do not have </span>
  <em>
    <span>preferences.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And by these words is how the only child of the Rosehearts learned to be just another trophy, like the ones sitting in an always organized row on his mother’s teakwood shelf. Just another shiny golden gleam to flaunt and display, to point at and boast about when guests come by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nurture always beats nature. And thus, It was not very hard for the Rosehearts boy to unlearn how it was to be a human. He had always mastered everything his mother had wanted him to, after all, even including the art of “objectifying.” In fact, amongst his many skills—mathematics, writing, reciting, memorizing—objectifying was the one that he was the best and most praised for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But even then, all of the praises he received were shallow and insignificant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because a good puppet show is not good because of the puppet. It was good because of the puppeteer, and the puppeteer only.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And this is how Riddle Rosehearts learned to approach living.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then there was a boy. Trey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And a cat, whose smile leaves after all else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were a taste of what it was like to be human. An envied pair that possessed so much less and yet so much more than Riddle did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, Trey did not have the first 300 rules that the Queen of Hearts created memorized word-for-word and he could not recite any rule from the top of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knew how to bake strawberry tarts. And he knew how to eat an entire egg custard in just one bite.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, Che’nya did not know how to solve a diophantine equation, nor have he developed his unique magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knew how to laugh, and also how to sneak a bit of whipped cream quickly enough so that Trey does not notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the first time in his life, Riddle felt genuine happiness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(The exhilaration of it all may have led him to his downfall.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It began as a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing more, nothing less.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just enough to wave hello and chatter a little before Riddle had rushed back to his position at his desk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Objects are not supposed to move unless moved by someone. They do not sneak outside, and they do not make friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet, the few minutes evolved into ten. Thirty minutes. And then an hour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No matter how many times he had scolded himself and promised to not risk it again, the strange feeling of being able to laugh and talk with people that were his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends </span>
  </em>
  <span>made him feel like he drank several gallons of hot apple cider—and that was a feeling that Riddle did not want to ever forget.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hot apple cider was something that Trey and Che’nya had introduced him to. And it was the richest, most delicious thing that Riddle had ever tasted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it alright for you to give a delicacy like this to me?” Riddle had questioned the two boys that day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Che’nya tilted his head. “Deeeee-lica-cee? That apple cider? It’s really not that rare of a thing, so why shouldn’t we give you one?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t ever had it before? I thought every kid in the neighborhood had drank one cup one time or another during the winter! It warms you up almost better than a steaming hot bath would!” Trey added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mama doesn’t like for me to eat such things. She says that they are ‘lacking in nutrition and exceeds the average eight-year-old’s optimal calorie intake.’” Riddle glanced down guiltily at his now-empty cup, thinking about what his mother would say if she ever found out that he had sneaked outside—and not only sneaked outside, but also drank and eaten foods that she had forbidden him from ever touching, much less put in his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understood none of that.” Che’nya grinned while dangling upside down from god knows where. “Why do you and your mum always say these—these big words? Deelikecey and optimal and…” He jumped down, gracefully landing on his feet despite the height. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trey sighed with the attitude of someone much older than the nine-year-old that he actually was. “Riddle-kun means, his mother doesn’t let him drink apple cider because it’s unhealthy.” He explained to Che’nya, who was maybe (probably) not listening. “But everyone deserves a treat now and then. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have strawberry tarts and blueberry shortcakes and all of those yummy things we sell at the bakery!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of mama, she might be coming back to check on me anytime now. I should go.” He tossed the used paper cup in a nearby recycling bin. “It was fun to talk to you guys today! Let’s meet again soon!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We never get to play for long, do you have to go back so soon, Riddle-kun?” Che-nya whined. “Grandpapa always said that we should study when it is time to study and study hard, but also play when it is time to play and also play hard. Riddle-kun, why are you always studying?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is for my own future. I want to become a successful doctor when I grow up. That needs a lot of studying.” Riddle echoed the words that he had recited to the many guests that dropped by the house to pick up medicine from his mother, or simply to have tea with her. It had came out almost involuntarily, as it was a familiar routine that he had adopted from a rather young age. It had always earned him a smile from dearest mother and then a pat on the head from whoever the guest was that day.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so ahead of everyone, so I’m sure that you’ll be able to play and study at the same time….” Che’nya mewed, unsatisfied with Riddle’s answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle stood awkwardly. No one had ever questioned his words before, so he had never bothered to come up with a response for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Trey seemed to know instinctively that Riddle was feeling uncomfortable. “Quit hassling Riddle-kun, Che’nya. Maybe you should study more like Riddle!” He chided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Che’nya pouted, and then jumped up and grabbed something from his backpack. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was that…apple cider?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved the packages onto Riddle’s hands. “Here! I can get some more whenever I want to, so you should take these! You deserve something sweet after all of that studying anyways.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle stared at the drinks in his hands, and if it wasn’t for Trey who said, “Alright, bye-bye Riddle!”, he might have stood there staring for just a couple more hours.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Riddle had barely made it in without his mother noticing, then. Just as he sat down and picked up his pen, pretending to focus on his work (while in reality, his mind was still rushing from that day’s peculiar events), his mother came into the room. He didn’t even have enough time to catch his breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was worth it. Riddle thought later, staring at the ceiling while laying in bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It had been the first real gift he had ever received, he realized.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that realization filled him with a bubbly happiness that was warmer than even apple cider.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another month passed. The trio developed a sort of schedule; Che’nya and Trey would tap on the door’s window several times to get Riddle’s attention, typically during his one-hour free studying time. This happened twice every week, and Riddle found himself becoming more and more impatient for the next time he would hear the familiar “tap-tip-tap-tap!” on his window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle had been excited for every meeting that the three of them had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But today was different. It was a special day. A day for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Birthdays were never anything extraordinary in Riddle’s eyes before. It was simply another day, another routine, another 50 pages in his philosophy book. Mother would sometimes bake a birthday cake for dessert (which tasted a lot better than protein shakes, Riddle must admit, but he still secretly longed for the cream-lathered, strawberry-flavored tarts that were always in display at Trey’s family’s bakery), or she would accompany him for longer during his studying and teach personally. Which, in Riddle’s current situation, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a good thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the middle of Riddle’s pondering, the aforementioned Mrs. Rosehearts stepped into the study. Quickly noticing her entrance, Riddle plastered on a smile that felt even faker than it looked. “Good morning!” Riddle chirped, discreetly flipping to page 567 in his textbook so that he looked productive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello to you as well, Riddle.” His mother greeted. “Happy birthday. Now that you are nine years old, I expect to see even better performance during your classes.” She glanced at her pocket watch. Mother was a very busy doctor, Riddle knew, and so every second of her time had to be carefully allocated and spent. Riddle had admired her for her diligence, as his father was also a magical doctor but did not nearly find enough time to teach Riddle and bake birthday cakes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But that question Che’nya had asked him that day still lingers in the back of Riddle’s head. Why is it that Riddle had always needed to study so hard? If he could play outside freely, wouldn’t it alleviate stress from both his and mother’s shoulders?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mama.” Riddle responded. He should not be questioning mama’s way of doing things, Riddle scolded himself internally. You are only her son, and she is the most famous magical doctor in the Kingdom of Roses! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>An acclaimed person like her knows better than a barely nine-year-old individual like yourself. She has accomplished more, experienced more, learned more—and therefore, she is always the most correct.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I know that Riddle would never disappoint me, is that correct?” His mother asked in her ever so mellifluous voice. Though, it seemed more like an assertion than a question that she really wanted Riddle to answer…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am glad that we are both on the same page. Now, I will teach you a special charm today. It is very efficient and good to use in friendly duels, where you do not want to cause long-term harm to your opponent.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lesson continued well into the morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Rosehearts checked her pocket watch again. “12 PM. Lunchtime will be soon.” Riddle exhaled, hand feeling sore after two hours of relentless note taking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your birthday cake this year is a low-sugar, high lecithin cake made with soy flour and nuts.” She said with a self-satisfied tone, no doubt proud by how many nutritions she managed to stuff into one cake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle did not know what came over him then. Maybe it was the boldness that he had slowly garnered from an entire month of sneaking outside successfully, but he said: “Thank you, mama. But, uumm, I…Just once, I really want to try a tart covered in bright red strawberries…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle’s eyes widened as he realized what just came out of his own mouth, and he barely stopped himself from clapping a hand over his lips to cover his words that were already too far out to disguise as an accident.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mrs. Rosehearts’s eyes narrowed as she snapped her pocket watch shut. “How could you say such a thing! That pastry is a mound of sugar that is more like poison.” Her beautiful voice turned shrill, laced with disgust and indignation. “One slice will exceed your ideal daily intake of carbohydrates. I expected you to know better.” She shot Riddle one final, wilting stare before returning to her former jovial mood. “Today we are having a tuna sautee with plenty of docosahexaenoic and eicosapentaenoic acid. Aah, but your ideal calorie intake at this age is less than 600 calories per meal, so don’t eat more than 100 grams.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More measuring and weighing…Sometimes, Riddle thought, the time taken to actually portion out everything to his mother’s exact precisions took longer than the time he actually ate the food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“…Yes, mama.” Riddle said dejectedly. Riddle was not sure what he had expected the result of his protest to be. But even so, he did have a sliver of hope that his mother just might, on this one special day, let him have a small taste of sweetness. A sliver that was quickly exterminated, that is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had wanted to try a strawberry tart for so long, ever since Trey had mentioned it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It glistens in the sun like a big, red ruby!” He described. “And when you bite into it, the jam just explodes in your mouth. Delicious!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, your mother has an errand to run. I will be back in an hour; This will be your self-studying time.” She stood up, and left the room without saying a proper goodbye. Clearly, she was still a bit miffed about the strawberry tart comment…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After making sure that she was indeed out of the house, Riddle went to the door to peek out of the small window (Riddle couldn’t reach the small opening even on tiptoes, so he had to go grab a stool from his mother’s study. But no matter; He’ll get a growth spurt and catch up to Che’nya and Trey soon, surely!) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Spoiler Alert: He doesn’t.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was Che’nya and Trey here yet? </span>
  </em>
  <span>They had been so excited for Riddle’s birthday and talked about it nonstop, even more than Riddle did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right on cue, a familiar tip tap danced across the wooden door. Riddle did not even have to use to stool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opened the door, the bright smile of Che’nya meeting him on the other side. “Hello, Che’nya.” Riddle smiled at the friendly lavender hybrid. “Is Trey not here yet? You two normally come together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eeeh, Trey will be here soon enough. He’d never miss your birthday!” Che’nya grinned, displaying his sharp canine teeth. “Happy birthday! You’re finally the same age as Trey and I.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trey and </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Riddle corrected automatically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eheh~ Ever the perfect student, you are.” He mewed. “Let’s go meet him in the square. He promised me that he’ll be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Che’nya took off without another word, running nimbly. Riddle could only stumble behind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when the two finally arrived at the hubbub of things, the green-haired boy was no where to be found.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll just have to wait for him, then.” The Cheshire Cat sat down. “Meanwhile, I have a gift to give to you! Close your eyes. No peeking!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really shouldn’t be giving me these presents, especially since I haven’t given anything back.” Riddle muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve given us your friendship. Isn’t that enough?” Che’nya rummaged through his bag. “Now shush and close your eyes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle did as Che’nya demanded, secretly resolving to find something to give the two of his friends as payback.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes passed, silence only prevented by the constant crinkling of plastic coming from Che’nya’s direction. What in the world could he have brought with him…?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boo!” Someone shouted in Riddle’s ear, loud enough to make him jump from his seat, closing eyes be damned. Though Riddle was not a very athletic person, that should have surely made him viable for the olympic world records.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trey!” Che’nya grumbled. “You didn’t follow my countdown! I was supposed to get out my gift first, and then you could surprise him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trey laughed. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. You should have seen how high you jumped, Riddle, I was almost afraid that you would break a leg when landing!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle turned tomato-red from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “You better be glad that I didn’t, or mama would chop off your head. And my head as well, for that matter.” He sat back down, rubbing at his lower calf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your mother sounds scary. Who is she, anyways? A professional assassin?” Che’nya asked, finally retrieving the items that he had wanted from his bag. It seemed to be a folded piece of paper, and a mysterious, wrapped box.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was also a box in Trey’s arms as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s a doctor. Mrs. Rosehearts, do you know her?” It was an unnecessary question really; Everyone, no matter their age, would be familiar with Dr. Rosehearts. His mother was very well-known in this town and throughout the entire kingdom in general for her groundbreaking discoveries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mrs. Rosehearts?” Trey’s eyes enlarged. “No wonder you’re studying so hard to become a doctor! You must want to live up to your mother’s legacy….”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Che’nya, whose ignorance knew no boundaries, shrugged. “I don’t know, what Mrs. Rosehearts? She sounds like a big deal, maybe she’s a very famous assassin?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trey pinched Che’nya’s cheek jokingly. “I thought everyone knew! The famous doctor who proved that homeopathy was just a placebo, and created countless medicines! You should stop playing so much and actually focus on your studies, Che’nya.” He rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mimicking Trey, Che’nya rolled his pupils as well. “Blah blah blah blah. Grandpapa said that playing is a sort of studying too. So even right now, I am technically learning!” Seeing Trey opening his mouth to interrupt, Che’nya made a shushing motion. “Anyways, we should give Riddle his presents! Me first!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Che’nya presented his box to Riddle with thinly concealed impatience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Giggling slightly, Riddle unwrapped the package. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ta dah! A new croqueting set! You’re horrible at sports, no point lying about that-(Trey sighs audibly in the background. How could you mess up a happy birthday wish this badly, Che’nya?)—but you’ve already improved a lot since we’ve first met you, and if we continue playing, you’ll improve even more! Trey and I will teach you, right, Trey?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other boy nodded in agreement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Che’nya smirked. “Though, I really don’t know if you can ever beat us, no matter how many days of training. With your height and utter lack of talent…maybe when hell freezes over!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A bit bold of you to say that when none of us have even gone through puberty yet.” Riddle scowled, red tinting his face. “There are still plenty of years for my growth spurt to take place!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, you guys can continue squabbling about heights after I give Riddle my present.” Trey chuckled. Riddle stared at the tall boy with envy; There was no doubt that even after multiple growth spurts, none of the other two boys would ever be able to catch up to Trey’s towering stature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Lend a few centimeters to your poor friends, will you, Trey?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He delicately placed the small paper box onto Riddle’s hands. On top, the words “Clover Cake Shop” was written in swirly cursive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Strawberry tart! I saw that you were mesmerized last time when I showed you the dessert on display in my family’s shop, so I asked dad if I could bring you a slice!” Trey beamed. “Here’s a fork, so that you can eat it now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle slowly opened the cardboard container, as if afraid that he would drop the tart somehow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first bite was wonderfully sweet, and it was better than anything that he had ever had. Better than apple cider, soy flour cake, sautee—and there would probably be nothing else that would ever reach the same level of absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He savored each bite, wanting to preserve the taste in his mouth for just a moment longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trey clapped his hands as Riddle finally finished. Though quite some time passed during Riddle’s eating, the two stayed quiet during it all. “So, how was it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have—never—ever—ever tasted anything better.” Riddle said thickly, mind still occupied by the sparkling strawberry delicacy. “Thank you. Thank you!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmph, fine. So you win this time, Trey.” Che’nya grumbled with his arms crossed. “I’ll beat you on Riddle’s next birthday, since now I know that he really likes sweets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trey laughed, a noise that sounded vaguely like clinging wind chimes. “Don’t you forget! 20 mandols, by the end of this week! And maybe if you didn’t make that comment about his height, Riddle’s response would have been more positive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys made a bet about me?” Riddle raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep! And Che’nya here wanted to bet all of his life savings that you would like his croquet set better than my strawberry tart. If we were in any other situation, I would have egged him on and then took all of the money when he inevitably lost, but I was worried that Che’nya’s grandparents would have a stroke over losing more than 500 mandols on a silly little bet.” Trey explained, smiling delightedly at Che’nya’s exasperated expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had really thought that you would like croqueting better than a random ole’ tart….” Che’nya mewed peevishly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse you, my family’s tarts are not just any old tarts. They’re made with the most natural ingredients, and everything is cooked just right!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? Last time I checked, Mrs. Blossombee’s cake shop won the best bakery award! Ehehe, they’re clearly better than yours.” Trey knew that Che’nya was purposely aggravating him, but Trey allowed himself to get mad anyways; “Take that back, you childish cat!” He shouted, dropping everything to chase Che’nya across the street.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The game of cat and mouse had lasted for quite a while until Trey finally gave up. The Cheshire Cat was atop of a lamppost, and it required Trey to risk several limbs in order to reach his position. And even then, Che’nya would just jump to another tall structure, almost effortlessly. No one in the group could beat Che’nya’s stamina and flexibility, and no one would ever be able to—at least, in the next few decades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riddle patted Trey’s back, in an attempt to help him catch his breath. Which, sadly, didn’t work, as Trey still looked very puffy and red after the patting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hehe! You look like a real tomato, with your red face and green hair.” Che’nya giggled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without meaning to, Riddle bursted out in laughter as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you two. Not funny.” Trey said, face contorted weirdly in a futile attempt to keep a stern expression. After a few minutes of this pointless facade, he had to laugh as well. Happiness was infectious, as people always say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They laughed until their voice became hoarse and forgot the reason that they even started laughing in the first place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If this is what it meant to be a human, then Riddle wanted more. He wanted more than just an hour a day and twice a week. If Che’nya and Trey could do this every single day, then why is it that Riddle couldn’t? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small voice reminded him that sneaking outside during self-study time was a bad, untruthful thing to do and that he shouldn’t be going outside for even one minute, much less 60. But, the majority of his being preferred to shove the guilt into the dark recesses of his mind, and enjoy the fun while he could. Riddle still received full marks on every course, and eating a tart or drinking apple cider once in a while wouldn’t kill him, would it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The small voice shouted a bit louder this time out of any other day, filling Riddle’s head with words that he did not want to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you really jealous of Trey and Che’nya? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It asked slowly, sending chills down Riddle’s spine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You have your life all planned out ahead of you. What schools you’ll go to. What profession. Everything you would ever need to create a comfortable and rich future is already placed on your hands. Now, you just have to spin gold out of it. Are you, son of Rosehearts, jealous of these two boys, whose futures are only a question mark? They do not know what they might want to pursue, and they do not know how they are going to live when they grow up. Will they become beggars? Politicians?  Unsuccessful writers?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice did not stop chirping in his ear, not when he was playing croquet with Che’nya and Trey, and not when they were discussing their favorite foods. It was like a fly that Riddle had badly wanted to swat but couldn’t reach no matter what, and would only swoop down to annoy him more after seeing that he’d given up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so due to this, Riddle was mostly distant from the chattering that Trey and Che’nya were exchanging. The two noticed this of course, but both silently agreed that perhaps Riddle just had a lot on his mind. Riddle was so different from any other children they had encountered before, and so they had no idea what to expect; He was quieter, but more thoughtful as well (unless you bring up his height, then your limbs and head are all fair game) and provided insight onto things that neither of them had ever considered before. An old head on young shoulders, truly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t long before they realized that Riddle had begun turning slightly pale as well, and so a concerned Trey questioned, “Riddle, are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The red-haired boy’s head snapped up in surprise. “Err…yes. I was just thinking.” He replied faintly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? You look quite unwell. Was there something in the tart that you were allergic to?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not allergic to anything. Not that I know of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah…if you say so.” Worry knitted the green-haired child’s eyebrows. “By the way, I thought you would be leaving by now. Did Doctor Rosehearts made an exception for your birthday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His words impacted Riddle as if someone had dropped his heart into a vat of freezing water. The color instantly left his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P-pardon?” Riddle stuttered, dreading the answer of the other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You normally play for one hour before going back. It has been an hour and a half.” Trey clarified, frown deepening as he saw the ghostly pallor of Riddle’s face. “Are you sure that you are alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>I—I have to go.” Riddle stood up abruptly, blood thumping violently in his head. “And good—goodbye. I hope we can play next time.” This was said with overwhelming softness, barely loud enough for his two companions to hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please let me make it in time. Please let mama be delayed by something and come home late. Please…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(But for that to happen would be a miracle. And Lady Luck has never given Riddle anything of the sort.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Riddle? Riddle, where are you going? Did something urgent happen?” Che’nya’s meowed, stunned by Riddle’s sudden outburst.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the redhead was gone, with only the empty cake box on the bench to prove that he was ever there at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you! You skipped out on studying to go outside and eat a mound of sugar!” Piercing eyes that Riddle could only describe as filled with uncertainty stared at him unwaveringly. Uncertain if the person—no, prize—in front of her is still the trophy that she was always ever so proud of. Uncertain if Riddle is still the </span>
  <em>
    <span>object</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she had thought he was, and if her perception of him was ever accurate to begin with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those two instigated it!” She fumed. “I won’t allow you to spend time with those terrible children ever again!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Expecting the fall does not make the impact any less harsher. “I’m sorry, mother! I won’t do it again, so forgive me…!” Riddle’s voice cracked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Silence! This is because you broke the rules.” Mrs. Rosehearts let out a long exhale. “Aah, I should have never given you so much free time. I have to keep an even better watch over you…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s why I will always have to follow the rules that mother makes. If not, I will only be digging a grave for myself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In town, she is the most respected. And that makes her the most correct.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A moment of silence passed between the two, before mother spoke up once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you had listened to my lecture at all just then, you would have known not to cry.” His mother said coldly. Strangely enough, Riddle had not even noticed the tears that poured down his cheeks in waterfalls until his mother pointed it out. Though the numbness in his arms made it difficult, Riddle rose a sleeve to wipe away the tears. “Rule number 143 from the Queen of Hearts: You must not shed tears while in the presence of your elders. Do you remember that, just last month, I told you to memorize the first 300 rules of her highness? This just proves that I was right to tighten the leash on you, doesn’t it? You have been slacking off for even more than I feared.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am s-sorry, mama.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Memorize them again. I will ask Mr. Louiseveer to test you on it tomorrow.” She pursed her lips. “I would expect you to get perfect scores. However, after the events of today, which of my expectations can still be kept?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that last, withering comment, Mrs. Rosehearts left Riddle to the privacy of his room, clicking high heels still audible even after she closed the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can cry now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Riddle told himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You are no longer in the presence of an elder, after all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But when no tears came forth, Riddle realized; The tears had dried up in their wells, and the urge to cry had vanished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was not a good turn of events. Without the tears to vent his emotions, all Riddle had left was an indescribable throbbing in his heart that he had no idea how to get rid of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>No matter how many times Riddle repeated “Mother is right, and you only got what you deserved”, the pain, anger, and sadness were not dulled. It was a pain that words couldn’t budge and a band-aid won’t fix—a pain that the</span> <span>Riddle before had never experienced. Is this why it felt so raw, and left him with a stiffness that made him simply want to disappear into thin air?</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please, tell me, mama.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why..why does my chest hurt like this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just on my birthday would be fine.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to eat a bunch of tarts. I want to play outside for hours. I want to make more and more friends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me, mama. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What rules must I follow in order to make this pain go away?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Prologue will be released tomorrow.</p><p>Edit: My friend discovered this fic because she's a gremlin lurking around the Twisted Wonderland tag, just like me...</p><p>God damn it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>And when the mirror utters the words, “Riddle Rosehearts: Heartslabuyl!”, Trey is at a loss for words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was no doubt that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>Riddle Rosehearts and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>Riddle Rosehearts shared many similarities. The name, fiery red hair, short stature, and gray eyes—no, there was absolutely no doubt. It was silly of Trey to even second-guess himself (after all, what were the odds that some random individual would have the same exact name as </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>Riddle in the first place?), but there was something so essential that was gone in this person, this stranger that now stood in line for the new Heartslabuyl first-years. Something that Trey couldn’t quite put his finger on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please go to your dormitories in an orderly manner.” Trey announced. He could not let his wandering mind distract him from his responsibilities at hand, no matter how stunned he was. “Heartslabuyl, please go into this mirror, turn 2 lefts and go inside your rooms. Feel free to choose your own roommates….if you wish to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone raises their gloved hand. It is a first-year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Queen of Hearts’s Rule Number 802: People under the age of 18 should never choose their own roommates. This is Heartslabuyl house, is it not? Shouldn’t we be under the Queen’s allegiance, and follow her well-articulated rules?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the one to say this is no one other than Riddle Rosehearts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A complete stranger. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Trey had to remind himself. And it was proving to be true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A murmur of astonishment spread amongst the three years; No one had expected anyone to remember, much less enforce, those absurdly unnecessary rules. Trey did not think even the third-years had bothered to commit more than 50 of them to their memories. This left the other 763 absolutely unheard of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, we do not plan to act upon those rules just yet. We will do so after everyone has received their first week of instruction.” Trey fibbed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do hope that you are not lying, upperclassman.” Was the other’s swift response. Even without looking, Trey could feel the deathly glares of the second and third years, hatred already building up towards Riddle Rosehearts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Riddle would be known as “the arrogant boy who showed no respect towards his elders”, until he beat the third-year dorm head with 51 weeks still remaining in the school year. Then, everyone was silent.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Trey was occupied, thinking something vastly different from the rest of the Heartslabuyl house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The eyes, the green-haired student finally realized. They were devoid of the thoughtfulness that the younger Riddle had. There was only crude determination, a passionate flame that was burning towards a target that Trey did not yet know. It was not a gentle flickering that could warm the hearts of many; Instead, it was a fire that raged higher and higher, filled with an ambition that nothing could stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This left an unsettling curtain of dread that would soon prove to be correct, in the back of Trey’s mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did Riddle not recognize him? Trey pondered. It seemed unlikely, as Trey’s appearance had not changed much from when they were children. The same green hair and rectangular eyes, with only the glasses as a new addition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed more possible that Riddle had simply chosen to ignore him. More than five years had passed since they last met; Talking to each other after all this time would be awkward, to say the least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Trey, look at this!” Che’nya called out. Trey peered over, readying himself to scold Che’nya for getting his clothes dirty. The two had tried (unsuccessfully) to make a human ladder in order to peer through the window sills. Though Trey did not approve of invading other people’s privacy, he was worried enough to overlook it for the time being. After seeing that there was a shorter window in the back, they had hurried over there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But instead of trying to peek through the opening, Che’nya was...digging through garbage?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s the croqueting set that I gave to Riddle. For it to be in the trash—did he really dislike it that much?” Che’nya pouted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t think Riddle is the type to do such a thing.” Trey examined the now-broken present. “We should take a look at what’s inside the house before jumping to conclusions…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The two found nothing but a neat room devoid of any people or personal tokens.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t until an entire month later when Trey would find out what actually happened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dr. Rosehearts’s mood has been terrible recently…” Trey’s father said during one Saturday dinner. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the mention of “Rosehearts”, Trey’s ears immediately perked up. “Oh, why so?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His father frowned at him funnily. “When have you developed such a curiosity for Dr. Rosehearts’s business?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Err…I’m just bored. That’s all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Trey’s father saw through the lie in an instant. “Ah, I see.” He said, though Trey’s words provided no insight. “That friend of yours was called Richard Rosehearts, was it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Riddle.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right. I haven’t seen him around in a while. And it just so happened that Dr. Rosehearts had said something about her son breaking her rules, and disrespecting the effort she placed in taking care of him. She hired a governess to teach him while she was away, I heard.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, the food in Trey’s throat started feeling like glue.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That Riddle boy seems to be leading a hard life. Dr. Rosehearts is very passionate and stubborn about education; There is not a single paper about her that doesn’t mention it. People like that can oftentimes go too far, though.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Swallowing his last bit of rice with overwhelming difficulty, Trey excused himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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